David Drake - Godess of the Ice Realm

"Ah," said the fellow, turning to the woman with him. "Are you planning to attend Lady Tilduk's gala, Syl?"

Lord Bossian pulled out his own chair; the whole gathering followed his lead, seating themselves in a rush that filled every place on the terraces. Cashel sat carefully, as he always did when he wasn't sure how sturdy his chair would be.

As Kotia settled beside him, she muttered, "The Visitor does as he wishes."

But as she spoke, she eyed Cashel.

Ilna sat with her back to the little cabin and the sun on her left side. Nabarbi was at the steering oar on the opposite railing, so she was as much out of the way as she could be on a small vessel.

She was working on the hand frame in her lap, weaving a cartouche that could become part of a tapestry or set off a garment as need arose. Its measured curves drew the eye and left the beholder feeling marginally more optimistic. Ilna smiled grimly as she worked: the design had a positive effect even on her.

Because theBird of the Tide 's hold was nearly empty, Ilna could've carried any loom she wanted. She couldn't possibly use anything larger while they were at sea, though, and they'd be returning immediately to Carcosa when they'd dealt with this trouble in the Strait.

If they survived, of course. She smiled again. Shewas feeling optimistic.

Their bow was chopping into the sea, a change from the first day out when slow swells from astern lifted theBird in long, queasy arcs. Ilna didn't like the chop, but she hadn't liked the swells either. In all truth she didn't like ships, which put them in the same category as most people and most things. And because of the way she was feeling, she grinned even wider atthat thought.

"You're a cheerful one today, lass," said Chalcus in a tone of pleased puzzlement. He'd come around the cabin from where he'd been talking to Nabarbi. "I'd feared that bucking the current would've made you uncomfortable."

As compared to what? Ilna thought, but because she was feeling positive-and because she liked to see the pleasure that brought into Chalcus' eyes-she said, "It's not so very bad. I can work-"

She tilted the hand frame as a gesture.

"-and so long as I can work, nothing disturbs me very much."

Chalcus nodded in understanding, though she caught a flash of regret in his expression also. "Most of the northbound traffic takes the Haft Channel and hugs the mainland," he explained, gesturing to starboard. "That's how the current flows, so even if the wind's from the northeast you can make headway."

He grinned. "If you know what you're doing," he added, "and you're not sailing a pig, which ourBird here assuredly is not."

Chalcus patted the railing. He was dressed in tunic and sash, ordinary garb for the captain of a small vessel who expected to help the crew in a crisis; but the sash was bright red silk matching the fillet that confined his hair, and his curved dagger wasn't an ordinary seaman's working blade. Chalcus wasn't a man to pass unnoticed in any company, so he didn't bother trying.

"Ships bound for Carcosa take the Outer Strait and pass north of the Calves," Chalcus continued, "riding south on a current that comes all the way from the Ice Capes. It's those ships that the Rua take, or anyway somebody takes-"

He gave her another grin; Ilna nodded coldly.

"-so we'll be calling in to see Commander Lusius in Terness on the north coast of Corse, that's the northeast island of the Calves. To get there we're slipping between the other two islands, Betsam and Bewld; and that means fighting the current."

"I'd noticed the air was cooler," Ilna said, tying off the completed design. She rose to her feet, looking at the sea for the first time since she'd placed herself against the cabin. The railing wasn't particularly high, but seated on the deck she could see only the sky over it. The water was a murky green as though it was mixed with powdered chalk.

"We'll dock in Terness before the middle of the afternoon, I'd judge," Chalcus said, eyeing the land ahead of them. Ninon stood in the far bow, his right hand on a stay, watching also. "Barring the untoward happening, which is no more a certainty on shipboard than it is with the rest of life, eh, lass?"

"Chalcus," said Ilna. She pointed to the sky high to the northeast. "Are those birds, or…?"

"Ah, you've good eyes, my dear," said Chalcus, following her gaze. "Indeed, it's the 'or' of your question, I would say. They're no birds of my acquaintance, for all that they're surely flying."

There were three of them, dipping and swooping in the clear air. Ilna couldn't estimate the distance closer than ' many miles away', but that was enough to prove that the creatures were huge. In a sudden simultaneous rush they vanished again over the horizon.

"Shausga and Ninon," Chalcus called. "Go string your bows, I think. Likely we'll not need them, but… have them ready regardless. Kulit, take over the lookout."

Chalcus grinned at Ilna with a wolfish good humor that had nothing funny in it. "And for me, my dear, I think I'll have my sword about me till we dock. Not that we'll need that either, but…"

"We'll need it before this voyage is over," said Ilna, folding a swatch of coarse fabric over the hand frame to protect it when she packed it in the hold. "That's why we're here, after all."

She was smiling also. It struck her that there probably wasn't much difference between her expression and that of Chalcus.

And because Ilna really was in a positive mood, she laughed at the thought.

"We should've come double-time," Attaper muttered to Garric as they reached the plaza in front of the Temple of the Lady of the Sunset. "My boys could've taken the gates and held them till the regulars came up."

Ten Blood Eagles were ahead of them; seventy more-companies in the bodyguard regiment were badly understrength because of recent fighting-were behind. Rosen's regiment followed, filling the street eight abreast and singing a Blaise warchant.

The hut beside the temple steps was empty, though the watchman's lighted lantern hung from the hook over his open door. The gates to the compound behind the temple were closed and barred; that might have been normal for the hours before dawn, but an alarm was ringing within and torchlight shimmered behind the walls.

"If you think we could've run ahead and not have those Blaise armsmen decide it was a race, Lord Attaper…," Garric said as King Carus in his mind grinned approval. "Then you've seen surprisingly little of the world. Besides, we're not dealing with foreign enemies. These are citizens of the Isles, although they may be a little vague at the moment regarding their duty to the crown."

"We'll sort 'em out," grunted the file leader close behind Garric. "By theLady, we will!"

It struck Garric momentarily as an odd oath. On consideration he decided it was exactly the right one.

The courtyard walls were ten feet high. A man squirmed over them from the other side, then dropped down into the plaza. There were angry shouts within the compound.

Attaper grabbed Garric by the shoulder and held him fast. "Blood Eagles!" he ordered. "Close ranks twenty feet from the wall!"

The wall-jumper trotted toward them, stopping with his hands raised, palms outward, just short of the guards' lowered spears. "Your highness!" he called. "My name's Birossa. I'm Lady Liane's man!"

"Bring him here," said Garric.

"Your highness," said Attaper, "I don't think-"

Instead of shouting in frustration, Garric laughed and twisted away from Attaper's hand, then slipped through the rank of Blood Eagles. The guards were doing their job as they saw it, but Garric's job was to rule the Isles. He wouldn't let his friends keep him from his duty, any more than he would his enemies.